


Thominho Week 2015

by LadyJanriel



Category: The Maze Runner Series - All Media Types, The Maze Runner Series - James Dashner
Genre: A lot of different themes, Alternate Universe - Domestic, Alternate Universe - Hogwarts, Alternate Universe - Soulmates, Alternate Universe - Supernatural Elements, Fluff, Fox Thomas, Gryffindor Harriet, M/M, RMS Titanic, Ravenclaw Teresa, Ravneclaw Thomas, Soulmate-Identifying Marks, Thominho Week 2015, gryffindor Minho, kid!Newt, werewolf Minho
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2015-10-18
Updated: 2015-10-25
Packaged: 2018-04-27 00:27:33
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 7
Words: 6,394
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/5026636
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/LadyJanriel/pseuds/LadyJanriel
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>For Thominho Week 2015 on tumblr</p><p>7 days, 6 themes -- all Thominho goodness!</p>
            </blockquote>





	1. Day 1: School/University

**Author's Note:**

> Thominho week starts October 19th but seeing as I have work early tomorrow, I decided to upload the first prompt for Thominho week. They're all different themes and they all vary in length.

Thomas walked Teresa toward the train station in Hogsmeade. She was wrapped up in layers of muggle clothing, her hair tucked neatly into her pink beanie, a scarf wrapped around her neck for warmth. Her nose was already red from the cold as her breath misted in the wintry air. She rubbed her hands together despite the gloves and shivered.

“Are you sure about staying here for the holidays? Mom’s making her famous brownie cake recipe this year.”

Thomas chuckled. “Yeah Resa, I’m sure. Besides, I still have a lot of homework to get done and I really need the library access for it.” 

They reached the station crowded with students leaving for the holidays. He wrapped Teresa in a warm embrace, squeezing her tight. “Save me a piece, okay?” He grinned.

Teresa smiled back, eyes bright with amusement. “Okay. You take care, you hear me? I’ll send you an owl when I can.”

“Yes mother.”

She swatted him playfully on the arm; the air filled with their laughter.

Thomas planned to hug her again when something wet and cold smacked the back of his head. Part of the snowball trailed down his exposed neck. He shivered.

He whirled on the culprit, brown eyes irked.

Minho stood a few yards away, arm still extended from the throw, a stupid grin on his face. 

“Ooooh! That’s a bullseye hit! Two points to Gryffindor!” 

“Minho!”

The Gryffindor sixth year bolted, kicking up snow as he ran. His laughter echoed in the morning air.

Thomas scowled. He wiped away the remainder of the snowball from his neck and turned back to Teresa, who bit her bottom lip to keep from laughing. He rolled his eyes playfully.

“Later Resa,” He hugged her again, already feeling melancholic for her departure. “Have fun.”

“You too Tom.”

 

Thomas returned to the warmth of the castle once Teresa boarded the train home. He was on his way back to the Ravenclaw dormitories when a familiar figure caught his eyes. 

Minho sat at the end of the Gryffindor table, a piece of gingerbread hanging from his mouth. Across from him sat Harriet, another Gryffindor girl from his year. She looked barely tolerate of Minho’s presence, her form ridged and tense as he spoke to her, yet there was a small flicker of a smile on her face.

Thomas frowned, suddenly annoyed. He didn’t have a problem with Harriet, she seemed quite nice whenever they had class together. He often stumbled across her in the library with Sonya. Speaking of which, he didn’t see the Slytherin girl anywhere. No wonder Minho was getting comfortable.

A feminine laugh snapped him out of his gaze. Minho and Harriet chortled together, the girl nearly falling off the bench, her face scrunched up in amusement. Minho took a moment to watch her, there was something in his expression that made Thomas feel sick inside. He gripped his wand tightly.

He slid into the seat beside the bay, their thighs flushed against each other. Harriet and Minho eyed him in surprise.

“Thomas, how nice of you to join us.” Harriet said with a smile. “I didn’t know you were staying behind too?”

“Yeah, someone’s gotta keep this shank out of trouble.”

Minho pressed a hand over his heart, mock horror on his face. “Why Thomas! You wound me with your words!”

“Cry me a river man.”

Minho bumped into Thomas. He slipped a hand beneath the table and trailed up the length of Thomas’ jeans. He squeezed his thigh.

Thomas’ breath hitched.

“You okay?” Harriet questioned. 

Heat flared up in his cheeks. “Y-yeah, I’m fine. I hope I didn’t interrupt anything, but Min and I have something personal to discuss.”

“Yeah, sure. I was going to meet up with Alby anyway. See you boys around.” The sixth year gathered up her things and with one last smile, exited the Great Hall.

Thomas elbowed Minho in the ribs, a pout on his lips.

“Ow! What was that for?”

“That’s for pelting me with a snowball earlier, you shank.”

Minho rubbed his ribs sulkily. “You were being too cozy with Teresa. What the hell did you expect me to do? You looked like you were about to kiss her goodbye.”

“So you threw a snowball at me?”

“It got you attention didn’t it?” The boy grinned.

Thomas scoffed.

He grabbed Minho’s chin and pulled him close, their lips meeting for a chaste kiss. Minho’s left hand snaked around Thomas’ neck, deepening the kiss.

They broke apart at someone’s cat call, their faces flushed in embarrassment.

“Save it for the bedroom ya dirty shanks!”

“Slim it Gally!” Minho yelled, giving the dark haired boy a death glare from across the hall.

They heard the boy’s uproarious laughter in response.

Minho grabbed Thomas’ hand and nudged him toward the door. “Let’s go somewhere more private.” He grumbled, the tips of his ears red. 

Thomas gripped his hand tightly in response, his chest warm, his stomach fluttering.

“Oh yeah, get that booty Minho!”

“DON’T YOU START FRYPAN!” 


	2. Day 2: Historical AU

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I went with a titanic movie for this one. Cuz yes. I'm sorry these are short, but I didn't want to get enraptured in a super long thing after writing the Newtmas Cinderella.

Minho was a lot of things: a thief, a poor person, an immigrant way out of the confines of his country. He was a lucky son of a gun, if scoring tickets to the most esteem Titanic in a round of poker for his boys wasn’t enough, but a believer of love – let alone love at first sight? No way. Perhaps if the person was attractive enough. Minho was certainly a believer in looks before everything else. He had his fair share of flings during his travels, from the timid sweet girls of his home country to the wild red heads in Ireland; the bombastic beauties of Spain – girls, boys – Minho didn’t care.  
At least, until he saw the boy of his dreams.

He and his buddies had been lounging on the upper deck, dressed like sensible gentlemen and not the underprivileged that they truly were. They were lucky to have found spare overcoats to cover up their overused shirts and dirty slacks otherwise they wouldn’t have been allowed to be outside and enjoying the ocean air. The poor weren’t permitted to lounge on deck while the upper-class were, after all.

It was then, in the midst of their jokes and laughter, Minho gazed up into the upper deck and felt the whole world stop on its heels. Standing there, dressed in fine suits only the rich could ever afford, stood a slim figure, short in stature with brown hair rusting in the wind and a splattering of moles along his cheek. He gripped onto the railing with hands so tight, Minho could see his skin stretched taunt over his knuckles. The expression on his face was marred with troubles, like everything in the world was wrong and collapsing all around him. 

Minho was enraptured. 

He wasn’t gorgeous by any means, Minho had taken prettier birds than him, but there was something about him… something visceral and strong that pulled Minho to him.

Frypan and Winston stopped their chatter to eye the figure on the upper deck. They watched in silence as a female approached, regal and poise in the cold sea air. Her movements were smooth and almost coy, like she were toying with the idea of scaring the stranger, but ultimately chose against it. Her black hair was luscious and thick down her back, her sapphire hat large and almost obnoxious. 

To Frypan and Winston, she was gorgeous. A beauty out of their league. To Minho, she was a nuisance. An obstacle in the grand scheme of things.

Winston suddenly laughed. “Don’t even think about it.”

“I’m not thinking anything.”

“You’re thinkin’ it, Minho.” Frypan said, rolling his eyes. “There’s no way you’re gonna get that piece tonight.”

“Or ever.” Winston added. “Give it up lover boy. He’s already taken.”

“That never stopped be before,” Minho grinned.

He watched the male disappear with the girl, her arm wrapped in his. Longing awoke in his chest, uncomfortable and strong. The urge to meet this boy, to catch his name, grab his hand; to stare into those eyes, he needed to enter this person’s life more than he needed air to breathe. 

Frypan’s hand was on his shoulders before he could move, a dark expression on the male’s face. 

“What?” Minho laughed. He tried to shrug off the tight grip from his arm but Frypan’s eyes narrowed in silent challenge. Minho scoffed. “I wasn’t going to do anything, Fry. Honest.”

“Yeah and we’re not stowaways trying to get to America. You were up to no good, Minho and I ain’t lettin’ you go through with it! We can’t afford to bail your klunk ass out of jail while we’re on this ship!”

“We can barely pay for anything as it is.” Winston muttered.

“Yeah, I get it Siggy.” Minho scowled. He ripped his arm away from the male’s grip and rubbed his bicep. “Thanks for the concern.”

Frypan scowled.

 

He spent the day trying to get the stranger out of his head. He promised Winston and Frypan he would behave, but made no assurance for the next time he saw the gentlemen with the moles.

Minho lay out on the lower deck, the bench hard against his back. The air was chilly without a jacket, a cloud of mist formed with every breath he took, but the elements didn’t keep him from gazing at the night sky. By God the stars were breathtaking. They looked like a splattering of glitter against a black canvas, twinkling to a harmony no one could hear. They reminded him of the boy from before and the moles across his skin. 

Did they form a constellation too?

Were they freckles instead of moles?

Did they litter the rest of his body too?

A chorus of erratic footsteps snapped him out of his reverie. A familiar set of moles crossed his path, the flutter of a black overcoat flashing into vision.

Minho sat up in an instant and watched curiously as the familiar boy hurried to the back of the ship. His shoulders were tense and rigid, his hands clenched tight into fists. It was unusual. Something about his movements set alarm bells in Minho’s mind.

He followed in a heartbeat.

 

He found the boy crouched in front of the rail, his shoulders quivering in a way that made Minho think the boy was crying rather than shivering from the cold. He suddenly rose to his feet and grabbed the rail. He climbed over it before Minho could comprehend what he was doing.

“Wait!” He cried then winced. He wasn’t sure what he could do to diffuse the situation. Maybe keep talking? “Don’t do it!” 

“Stay back! Don’t come any closer or I’ll let go!” 

Minho cautiously approached the rail, his heart hammering; thoughts racing. He didn’t make any sudden movements and was careful to keep his hands up and in the boy’s view.

“My… my name is Minho. I saw you earlier on deck. You looked…” Gorgeous. Lonely. Beautiful. Desperate. “…y-you looked peaceful. You, uh, you like the ocean?”

He stood off to the side, his hands on the rails and still within the boy’s sight.

The stranger looked torn between watching the rolling waters churn below and staring at Minho. He gave him a sidelong glance, a torrent of emotion raging a storm in his eyes. 

“It’s… t’s beautiful sometimes… when the sun sets or when… when it rises.”

“Yeah…” Minho croaked. He cleared his throat. “Yeah, it is.” Something overcame him then, a wave of confidence he hadn’t felt earlier. “It’d be shame to miss the sunrise, you know?” He leaned against the rail, looking comfortable and untroubled with the world. From the corner of his eye, he saw the boy’s tension melt away despite still hanging off the railing. He seemed less unstable now, a new light of curiosity drowning away the hurricane of despair.

Internally, Minho was grateful. He’d been lucky again.

“Not everyone gets to see the sun rise from the ocean.” He continued, eyeing him. 

“Thomas.”

Minho blinked. “Huh?”

“My name is Thomas.” The brunet smiled feebly.

Minho returned the tentative expression with a grin of his own. 

“It’s nice meeting you Thomas. Now, uh, do you wanna talk somewhere more comfortable? I like adrenaline almost as much as the next guy, but holding a conversation while you hang over the edge like that isn’t good for anyone’s health.”

To Minho’s great elation, Thomas chuckled. The brunet carefully turned around, and with Minho’s help, climbed back onto the safety of the ship.

“There,” Minho grinned, Thomas still in his arms. “That’s better, right?”

“Thank you Minho,” the brunet breathed. “That… that was something else.”

He shrugged. “You needed help. I wasn’t going to leave you alone. I would’ve gone to save you if you jumped.” 

The sincerity was thick and true. Minho would have jumped into the ocean for this perfectly innocent stranger without a second guess if it meant he could save his life.

Thomas must have sensed the truth behind his words because suddenly, Minho was enveloped in a tight hug. The boy murmured his thanks over and over into Minho’s shoulder, his body shaking with emotion. Minho held him close, wounded to see him so distraught but thankful for his luck.

He wanted nothing more than to make this boy happy, even if just for the moment.


	3. Day 3: Free Day

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Short fluffy drabble of the boy's having a cuddlefest on a rainy day.

With the day so cold and wet, Thomas felt the perfect way to pass the time was with microwaved popcorn, blankets; a movie and – most importantly – his boyfriend snuggled lazily on the couch. He set the timer on the microwave and joined Minho in the living room. He pulled Thomas into his chest once the brunet was situated between his legs and gave him a peck on the back of his head.

“Still looking for a movie?” Thomas asked.

“Yeah. Don’t know what to watch.” Minho scrolled through the list On Demand dully. “I wanna watch something action packed, maybe even a thriller. What about a horror movie?”

“It’s pouring rain outside. You really think a horror movie is a good idea?”

“The best idea.” Minho chuckled. He nuzzled his nose against Thomas’ neck, taking in the scent of strawberry body wash. “Mm, I’m glad I let you talk me into buying that body wash. You smell delicious, I could eat you up right now if you let me.”

Thomas felt his skin flare up in heat. He leaned into Minho’s embrace, his head falling into the crook of Minho’s shoulders like a missing piece of a puzzle.

“Thanks Min, but we’re not watching a horror movie and I’m not letting you eat me. We’ve got popcorn.”

Minho’s plump lips captured Thomas’ mouth.

“Yes, we are.” He breathed, breath hot against Thomas’ lips. 

Thomas closed the gap between them, his free hand caressing the older boy’s cheek lovingly. The microwave alarm sounded, loud in the otherwise quiet apartment. Thomas pulled away from Minho’s warm and pried his fingers away from the brunet’s waist. Minho pouted like a child as Thomas left.

“Don’t be a baby. I’m just getting the popcorn.” Thomas chuckled.

“Yeah and leaving me here to freeze to death.” The boy complained. “It’s subzero in here, dude. What the hell happened to the heater?”

Thomas poured the steamy batch of popcorn into a large bowl for them to share. He dumped a helping of salt into the mix, the butter already provided and grabbed two cans of soda from the fridge. He juggled the drinks until he returned to the couch and handed the pair to Minho. He crawled back in-between the boy’s legs, made himself comfortable against his chest and grabbed a handful of popcorn to shove into his mouth.

“So what are we watching?”

Minho set the remote aside and reached around Thomas for a snack.

“A horror movie.”

“Minho!”

“Thomas!” The boy mocked, his tone light. “Relax. It’s not even that scary. Where’s your Halloween spirit?”

“I have Halloween spirit, Min, but watching a horror movie with a storm like this is going to give me nightmares.” Thomas fretted.

Minho shrugged, the movement stiff with Thomas leaning into him. “Guess that means I’ll just have to protect you tonight. We can cuddle.”

Thomas rolled his eyes. He sunk into Minho’s form, comfortable and warm despite the fast pace of his heart. He popped another kernel into his mouth.  
“You just wanted an excuse to have me cling to you tonight.”

He felt the older boy’s chest rumble behind him. Minho leaned close toward his ear, lips ghosting the shell of his skin. “I don’t need an excuse for that.” He pressed his mouth against Thomas’ cheek and fell back against the pillows, laughing smugly.

Thomas’ body burned, a sliver of excitement coiling in the pit of his stomach.


	4. Day 4: Soulmates AU

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Sorry if this prompt isn't all that great. For some reason, I had a really hard time applying the concept of soulmates into Thominho, which is weird considering I love writing about soulmates in general but to actually USE the trope probably derailed my brain.

The countdown to your complimentary pair had always been something Thomas looked forward to as a child. It was like a rite of passage in their society. Markings came at different times for everyone. Sometimes it was late in their years, like twenty or thirty, and sometimes it was earlier, but never before puberty.

Thomas felt, more than anything, he and Teresa would be paired once they reached maturity. They had always been close, practically raised together since birth. Their mothers were best friends after all and their fathers had once crossed paths in their college years. Their parents believed it was sure thing, had even made plans to get the children married once their marks came to light. It just seemed so impossible to believe otherwise.

Then, on Teresa’s sixteenth birthday, her mark appeared on the inner forearm of her right arm, just above the crook of her elbow. She’d been ecstatic, of course. Her mother and father even more so, and when she shared it with Thomas, he rolled up the sleeves of his shirt to reveal nothing but pale, unmarred skin.

“Maybe it’ll show up on your birthday,” She reasoned. “You’re not sixteen yet.”

Thomas carried onto that hope.

When his sixteenth birthday finally came, the first thing he did was strip in front of a mirror. He scanned his body from head to toe, but found nothing quite out of the ordinary save for his sprinkle of moles and the paleness of his skin. He was ready to give up, defeated by the reality that his childhood friend was not the one he was meant to be with, when something peculiar on his neck caught his eye.

It was a marking, so small it could be easily missed. It was dark against his skin, like a deformation of pigmentation and held no discernible shape. It wasn’t as distinct as Teresa’s marking had been – a sign that your pair was near – and the lack of shape was disheartening to Thomas.

He had gotten his mark, but his partner was nowhere near or ready.

It wasn’t until college did Thomas’ mark flare in pain. He was on his way out the door when the heat seared his neck like acid trickling down his spine. He tripped down a flight of stairs, succumbing to the pain. His books spilled onto the floor, the echo of his fall bouncing off the walls.

“Oh shit!” He heard someone gasp. “Call an ambulance!” the scatter of footsteps sounded loud in hi Thomas’ ears, his head pounding in cadence.

A sheen of sweat broke out all over his body, the pain intense and blinding. He wanted to scream. He clutched the side of his neck, a part of him wishing he could dig his nails into his flesh and tear out the offending mark, but he couldn’t. His nails weren’t long enough.

“Hey, hey come on shank. Breathe with me here. Just breathe in and out slowly. Come on!”

The stranger cupped a hand over his shoulder and suddenly, the blinding pain was gone. Thomas felt his muscles relax as he breathed, his whole body trembling.

“That’s it. Nice and easy.” The stranger sighed, his voice deep and tranquil.

“What’s your name, shank?”

Thomas opened his eyes slowly. He blinked away the blur and took a hard look at the stranger.

Tall and fit; black eyes and hair – Thomas felt he’d seen this guy around before, but couldn’t recall where.

He licked his lips.

The stranger’s eyes followed the movement. He seemed entirely too close though Thomas didn’t mind.

“T-Thomas.” He cleared his throat. “My name is Thomas.”

“Well Thomas that was one hell of a fall. Did you hurt your neck? You were gripping it pretty light.”

“I just… my mark…”

“Can I?”

His first instinct was to say no. His mark was precious and private; a constant reminder of his failure to find the one person he’d always looked forward to meeting. Yet, he found he couldn’t say no to this guy. Didn’t want to, really.

He allowed the stranger to tug on the hemming of his sweater lightly. The cool air felt great on his sweaty skin, the strange blemish on his neck still trickling with pain. He nearly moaned in contentment as the stranger caressed a thumb along the length of his mark, the touch electric against his skin.

The other boy drew back, his expression oddly serene. “My name is Minho.” A goofy, dazed grin crossed his lips. “And I think I figured out why your mark went crazy like that.”

He dragged the collar of his shirt down and showed Thomas a similar bruise along his neck. It was dark against Minho’s skin, and just as small. The markings were similar, but not identical, just like it’s position on Minho’s neck was closer to the front as opposed to near the back like Thomas’. They looked lines that held no shape, but Thomas felt, if he ever were to put their markings on paper, they’d form something together. A complimentary pair, similar yet different.

After all, no two people were the same. Not even twins.

Thomas licked his dry lips again, his heart racing from more than the adrenaline.

“So we’re…?”

“Yeah.”

“And you’re…”

“Yep.”

“But we’re—”

“That doesn’t bug me.” Minho shrugged, amused.

Thomas couldn’t help but gawk at the boy.

“How’s ‘bout this,” He chuckled, snapping Thomas’ jaw shut with a finger. “Let me take you out to lunch. My treat, okay? And you can ask me all the questions you want.”

Thomas blinked, but yielded.

“Okay,” He smiled. “It’s a date.”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Props to anyone who understands why I chose the idea of "complimentary pairs" rather than "identical marks" :D YOU MIGHT GET A SPECIAL TREAT


	5. Day 5: Fantasy/Magic

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> The first prompt I wrote when I decided to participate in Thominho Week XD I borrowed Teen Wolf’s mythology about the foxes and wolves since I really wanted to make Thomas a fox.

They say foxes and wolves don’t get along and as much as Thomas hated to admit it, he could understand why. Minho was impetuous and irresponsible. He barely listened to a word Thomas said and when he did, it was to tease him or challenge his authority. They often got into arguments despite Minho knowing Thomas was right during most, but most importantly, they were often challenging each other, pushing past their limits. To be honest, Thomas found it thrilling. He knew Minho did too.

Minho was a growing werewolf, a beta quickly working up the ranks to alpha hood. It was a shame, truly. Thomas didn’t doubt Minho could have taken Alby down when the Alpha had challenged him. He’d been so ready to defend Thomas, he didn’t realize what he was sacrificing by doing so. The pack that he grew up with, hunted down food and killed off trespassers; the family that had watched over him after the death of his own – all of that sacrificed because of Thomas. For Thomas.

He couldn’t imagine what that was like. Foxes didn’t believe in kinship like packs. Thomas was a loner. He did what he wanted, went where ever he pleased. He was a free spirit and he had condemned Minho to the same fate thanks to his carelessness.

“You don’t have to come with me, you know.” Thomas began, filing the silence. He kept his eyes on the road while Minho fiddled with the car radio in search of good tunes.

The dark haired werewolf shrugged in response, a scowl already worming its way to his lips. “We already talked about this. I’m going with you whether you like it or not.”

“You’re leaving your pack behind, Min.” He sighed. Thomas gripped the steering wheel tightly, his skin stretched taunt over his knuckles. “They’re your family—”

“You’re my family now, Thomas.” Minho interjected, black eyes sharp. “You became my family the moment I imprinted on you. If my pack can’t accept that then we’ll start our own, just you and me.”

Thomas couldn’t help the playful eye roll, a small smile on his lips. “That’s real sweet and all Minho but you’re forgetting the most important factor here – you’re a werewolf! I’m a fox! We’re breaking every possible law put in place from both our tribes just by being near each other. Do you really think it’s going to be that easy, leaving all of this behind? Starting a new life?”

“Yes.” Minho said, his voice defiant and strong. Confident. “Fuck the rules, Thomas. Screw the clan. They’re all a bunch of slintheads and shuck-faces anyway. I’m glad we’re leaving.”

Thomas felt his good mood sober.

That’s right. Not only did Alby banish Minho from the pack, but he was also forcing them out of town, away from the pack’s territory. Thomas didn’t mind. He had no attachments to the place – didn’t have any attachments to any place, really. The only thing he found himself concerned with was sitting right next to him in the passenger seat, a cute, yet stubborn pout on his face. His only regret was toward that very person. Minho spent his entire life within the safety of this town, to leave it behind so willingly? It was unbelievable.

The town lines appeared within the distance, the green sign illuminated by the bright glow of Thomas’s headlights. Thomas’s grip on the steering will tightened, the leather rubbing roughly against his sweaty palms.

“Minho—”

Minho rested a large hand against his fist, his palm wet with sweat from constantly flexing them. Yet, his touch was warm and calming. Trusting.

Thomas glanced at him, his heart hammering.

“It’s just you and me now, shank.” The werewolf smiled. “I’ll follow you to the ends of the Earth, you hear? So suck it up and quit worrying. We’ll be okay.”

Thomas licked his dry lips.

“W-what if we run into trouble? We’re—”

“—we’re two crazy shanks in love. I think we’ll be okay out in the wild.” Minho smirked, eyes rolling. “Besides, who’d be dumb enough to fight an Alpha in training and you, the most badass trickster I’ve ever seen?”

He pried Thomas’s hand off the steering wheel and intertwined their fingers, squeezing tight.

They drove past the exit sign, the white words a blur. Thomas felt a heavy weight lift from his shoulders as he exhaled.

Minho’s grip tightened again.

“You’re crazy Minho.”

“Heck yeah. Crazy in love.”

Thomas barked out a laugh. “Okay, now you’re just being cheesy!”

Minho chuckled, dark eyes still fixated on his profile. He brought their linked hands together and pressed a kiss against Thomas’ knuckles.

“We’re going to be okay Thomas. I promise you that.”


	6. Day 6: Songs/Lyrics

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> This is probably the shittiest submission of them all, in my opinion. I could not, for the life of me, figure out how to make this theme work. I was really obsessed with Boy Epic’s 50 Shades at the time the idea of thominho week came up, so I ended up using that as inspiration to write this, although I wouldn't have used it had I explored my albums better. I’m not too happy with it but there’s nothing else I can do.

The first time they laid eyes on each other was on the track field in college. The weather was pleasantly warm, the sky a never ending blue. Thomas wanted to enjoy the beauty of the day, so he and Newt found a seat on the bleachers and ate their lunch. There had been no one else on the field save for one lone runner. A tall boy in a sport’s jersey and shorts, hair gelled up to keep his bangs out of his eyes. He had ear-buds in his ears, his MP3 player strapped safely onto his muscled bicep.

Thomas hadn’t been paying attention to him, too wrapped up in his conversation with Newt, but the lone stranger had noticed their presence.  
Minho glanced their way, not because he’d seen them come up, but because something bright and shiny had called to his attention. Whatever it was he didn’t find it, but his dark eyes fell onto the brunet figure enjoying his sandwich, his smile so bright it was nearly blinding. He tripped on a rock in the middle of the tracks; gravity propelled him forward and he tumbled to the ground in an embarrassing display of long limbs. The palm of his hands scraped against the rough asphalt, tearing his skin and making him wince.

Thomas and Newt turned then, curious and confused – maybe even a little amused.

Minho’s ipod continued to play, Boy Epic’s Fifty Shades still crooning in his ears. His face burned hotly.

 

The second time they saw each other was at Alby’s party in the summer. Thomas, troubled by the loud sounds in the house, stumbled out into the empty lawn. Empty plastic cups, napkins and other garbage littered the grass in an ugly display of a party gone wild. The music played distantly, still loud enough for him to make out the beat, but the words nothing more than a muffled mess. The air was cool against his heated skin, his tongue dry in want for something more than alcohol.

Minho joined him a few seconds later, flushed from the alcohol and sweaty from the heat. His face was pinched in irritation as though something truly annoying had occurred inside. And perhaps it had, for the front of his shirt was damp with liquid – a drink possibly – and his usually immaculate hair ruffled and out of control.

Minho stopped in his tracks, the sight of Thomas surprising. His sour expression melted away in an instant. It was comical to a tipsy Thomas.  
The brunet gave him a sloppy smile, still as majestic as the day on the field, and still just as powerful. Minho found he couldn’t breathe again.

“Y-you’re that guy w-who tripped on the track field, right?” The boy slurred. “That was funny.”

Minho tried hard not to sulk. He opened his mouth to speak when Thomas careened forward.

He caught the boy in a flash, the body dead weight in his arms, and laid him gently onto the grass. The brunet was out cold.

Minho sighed heavily.

Faintly, he heard Fifty Shades play in the background and was once more reminded of that faithful day on the track field.

 

The third time they saw each other was on a blind date.

Fed up with Thomas’ anti-social behavior and Minho’s endless pining about the boy he’d seen over the summer, their friends arranged a blind date at a restaurant in town.

Minho had been nervous. He dressed up nicely for the place; shirt tucked in, shoes shined, clothes pressed and clean. His hair was gelled again, spiked in its usual position when the voice on the radio made him pause. He’d heard it before in various different circumstances and each time, he never failed to recall the first time he’d heard it or who it reminded him of.

Boy Epic’s soft, smooth voice serenaded into his memories, calming his jittery nerves and enveloping Minho in warmth. The image of the brunet haired boy appeared in his mind’s eye, still as sharp and glorious as the times he’d seen him. He lamented, not for the umpteenth time, being unable to figure out his name or see the boy again. It’d been months since the boy blacked out in Minho’s arms and he had yet to come across him since.

Did he live in town? Did they have mutual friends? Would Minho ever see him again?

These were questions Minho had tortured himself with during the duration of summer vacation, and even now, amidst his blind date, they badgered him thanks to the song.

He pushed the questions to the back of his mind, no longer wanting to dwell on what could have been. He had to accept he would never see this boy again. It would not do to keep wondering. He needed to focus on this date.

“Are you my blind date?”

Minho snapped his eyes toward the voice and found, again and again, his breath stolen.

Thomas stood before him, dressed in a gray vest, black slacks and a white dress shirt with his sleeves rolled up. He smiled at Minho, a sense of recognition in his eyes. He seemed a little nervous, what with the way his shoulders were tensed and the corner of his mouth twitched. He took the sweat across from Minho and extended a somewhat shaky hand toward him.

“I’m Thomas.”

“Minho.” He took his hand.

The brunet beamed. “It’s nice to finally meet you. I’ve heard a lot about you from Teresa and Newt. You’re friends with Alby right?”

“Y-yeah,” Minho stammered, stunned. He fell back into his chair, a goofy grin sliding across his face. “So you’ve heard a lot about me?”


	7. Day 7: Kid!Fic

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> The last story for Thominho week. It was a blast doing this! I’m sorry if the fics were small, but something short, sweet and to the point was the general idea I went for considering all our responses would become a collection on AO3 :3
> 
> Have some cute domestic Thominho!

The autumn air was practically chilly when Thomas stepped out of the car. He zipped up his coat and made sure his beanie was in place before opening the backseat. Little Isaac sat secured in the car seat, feet kicking up a storm in an attempt to send his little boots flying. The wolf-eared beanie Thomas tucked onto his head before the ride lay uselessly on the floor, the child’s blond locks now a static mess. He smiled amiably at Thomas and made grabby gestures, the desire for freedom now stronger than ever.

“I knew something flew off during the ride,” Thomas chuckled.

He smothered down his son’s hair with his hands, his smile growing wide at the boy’s giggle, and fitted the hat over the boy’s golden head once more. Isaac pouted, discontent, but his infectious smile returned the moment Thomas unbuckled the safety belts around his small waist. He scooped the boy into his arms and slammed the door shut behind him.

Minho wheeled a shopping cart toward them, a wide excited smile on his face.

“Ready? I’m so excited. I shucking love Halloween!”

Thomas slipped Isaac into the chair with an amused smirk. The little boy squirmed in protest.

“Yeah, I can tell. You wouldn’t shut up about it on the whole way here.” Thomas commented.

Minho ran off into the store like a child at an amusement park, his boyish laughter loud in the autumn air. Isaac screamed jovially in mimicry.

They scrolled through aisle of Halloween décor and costumes. Thomas marveled at the creativity behind most of the props. He didn’t recall Halloween being such a big deal as a kid, which was ironic considering he was one of those dorks who celebrated the holiday a month in advance.

He loved Halloween just as much as Minho; that was why they were holding a Monster Bash in their home this year, but the décor of this store was on a league of its own. There were a variety of party themes he didn’t think of doing. From Zombie Madness to a skeletal theme. Thomas and Minho had gone with the classic Haunted House, but now, Thomas wished he’d gone with Bio-Hazard. The props for it were astounding.

He was totally jealous.

He picked up a box of skull shaped glasses in a set of six when Minho returned holding a mini zombie groom suit.

Thomas blinked in confusion. “What is that?”

“For Newt. He can be a zombie groom for the party.”

The child in question smiled, but continued to play with a plastic wand Thomas he handed to him upon arrival.

Thomas shook his head. “No.”

“Whaddya mean no?”

“Exactly what I mean – no. I don’t want Newt to be an undead groom. I was going to make him a pumpkin this year.”

Minho made a face like Thomas’ words were the most offensive thing he ever heard.

“A pumpkin?! You dressed him up as that last year!” Minho grasped onto Thomas’ shoulders, black eyes brimming with concern. “Thomas, babe, you can’t break the carnal rule of Halloween! You never, ever repeat a costume in succession!”

“You made that up Min!” Thomas laughed. He shoved his lover away and pushed the cart down the aisle, the skull glass set among their items. “But if you’re that upset about it then I won’t dress him up as a pumpkin. I’ll make him a candy corn.”

“No! Dress him up as something scary, not some weird food klunk. He’s a kid, not a byproduct!”

“Alright, alright, no food costumes, but he’s not going as a zombie groom. Get something else.”

Minho’s exasperated sigh came out like an obnoxious whine. He stormed back to the dark corners of the costume shop, his footsteps pounding like a petulant child denied candy for dinner.

Thomas grinned. Minho was just too cute sometimes.

He came back twenty minutes later. Thomas had just dumped some ghost themed plates and napkins into the cart when Minho showed him a yellow monstrosity for kids.

Thomas gave him a deadpanned expression.

“Spongebob? Really? I thought you wanted him to go as something scary.”

“Thomas, have you seen this costume?” Minho held up the square mask against his face, Spongebob’s eyes wide as saucers, and his mouth tight in a grin.

Isaac screamed, suddenly distressed.

Minho hastily hid the atrocious mask from his son’s view while Thomas pulled the toddler into his arms in a comforting embrace. He gave Minho a scathing glare, the little boy’s sniffles filling the silence between them.

“Okay, okay, sheesh! I’ll put it back.” He grumbled. “We should dress him up as a ballerina. That’ll terrify Gally more than any of these costumes would.”

“Pirate!” Isaac chirped, nose pink from his tears.

“A pirate!” Minho gasped dramatically. He scooped the boy into his arms and swung him around excitedly. “Good idea Newtie! A mean pirate from the seven seas, arrg! That’ll show Gally.”

“Arrg!” The little boy echoed with a giggle.

Minho chuckled. He pressed his lips against the boy’s forehead affectionately and gave Thomas a wink before returning to the costume wall.

“Make sure you give him a small sword, Min!” Thomas called to his retreating back. “I don’t want Teresa or Rachel getting mad at us because he poked out their kids’ eye out!”

“Shuck that! He’s my son, he’ll get the biggest, badass sword available and poke all his enemies’ in the eyes! Right Newt?”

“Yeah!”

Thomas shook his head with a sigh, a ghost of a smile reflected on his lips.


End file.
